


there is no distance in your absence

by silpium



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 07:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12127836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silpium/pseuds/silpium
Summary: Kageyama had forced himself to ignore that perturbing sense of wrongness, but it overwhelms him, prickling all over with sharp points down his arms and back. So he asks his mother one day, when she picks him up, if she knows that boy staring into the pond like it’ll solve a centuries’-old riddle.When she tells him there’s nobody there, the pinpricks turn to a biting chill.“The redhead,” he tries, gesturing towards the pond. “Right there.”But she insists there’s nobody there, even as he and the boy make eye contact as Kageyama’s mother leads him away. The boy stares at him with an expression mixed with disbelief and shock and something like hope; Kageyama’s stomach churns.





	there is no distance in your absence

**Author's Note:**

> there are major themes of depression and anxiety on hinata's part (mildly so on kageyama's); the abuse is towards hinata. please don't force yourself to read if this'll make you uncomfortable! take care of yourself

During his last year of middle school, Kageyama starts visiting the park just a few blocks down from his house. It’s old, all the equipment rusting and colors weathered from overuse, and nobody ever bothers to stop by.

It’s a lonely place, and the memories left lingering there feel more alive than anything else, now. Kageyama feels a sense of kinship with it; he finds himself there more often than not despite its barrenness. There’s a certain comfort to being alone when he can claim it’s by choice. Here, it doesn’t have quite the same sting it does during school or practice, when he can’t figure out why he’s alone.

It changes, though, abruptly and disconcertingly. The final tournament his team will have that year is coming up in a few months, and it’s frustrating, so _stressful_ , because nobody on his team will listen to him when he tries to give them advice. Around that time, Kageyama finds that no matter when he shows up at the park, there’s this boy there, too.

Kageyama’s mind stays stuck on the day when he noticed the boy for the first time. It wasn’t quite dusk, but not quite evening; it was the moment when the colors are at a loss for what to do with themselves, torn between fading and holding on just a little longer, when only the most courageous of stars dare to show themselves. The sun and moon stood on equal footing, invoking a chilling sense of limbo. Their light beamed down, reflected off the metal of the park equipment, and the air itself seemed unnervingly lustrous in the combination. The dreamlike haze was enough to muddle Kageyama’s thoughts, and only worsened when he saw the boy sitting stock still on the swing, staring down at his feet as the weeds beneath them fluttered in the breeze.

He had forced himself to ignore that perturbing sense of wrongness, but it overwhelms him, prickling all over with sharp points down his arms and back. So he asks his mother one day, when she picks him up, if she knows that boy staring into the pond like it’ll solve a centuries’-old riddle.

When she tells him there’s nobody there, the pinpricks turn to a biting chill.

“The redhead,” he tries, gesturing towards the pond. “Right there.”

But she insists there’s nobody there, even as he and the boy make eye contact as Kageyama’s mother leads him away. The boy stares at him with an expression mixed with disbelief and shock and something like hope; Kageyama’s stomach churns.

There’s something drawing him back there, despite the nauseating sense that something is awry seeping through it all—an urgent pull. He finds himself heading there just as school lets out the second the bell rings.

The boy is there, still, in front of the dreary pond. There hasn’t been anything alive in there for years, Kageyama knows, and he wonders if the boy has figured that out yet.

The boy looks up upon hearing Kageyama’s footsteps, and he holds Kageyama’s gaze, unblinking and measured, mouth pressed into a tight line. Kageyama doesn’t miss the way he tugs his knees even closer into his chest.

The silence stretches on for what feels like hours until Kageyama forces his feet, cemented to the ground, to move. The boy’s expression cracks into something unreadable.

Kageyama’s voice is almost carried away by the wind, but he manages to work it up through his chest and throat. “Who are you?”

The boy opens his mouth, closes it again, looks around the dingy, abandoned park. “Are you—you’re not talking to me.” His voice comes out all scratchy and worn, like he’s just woken up from a nap. It’s a statement, not a question.

Kageyama huffs. “Is there anyone else here, idiot?”

“Rude! You—you don’t even know my name and you’re insulting me! What gives, huh?” The cleaver to Kageyama’s chest has vanished in favor of, admittedly, rightful indignance.

“Maybe you should’ve introduced yourself any of the dozens of times we’ve seen one another in the past months, then,” Kageyama sputters back.

“I didn’t know you could—” the boy exclaims, the stops suddenly, face flooding with color.

“Didn’t know I could _what_?”

“No, no, nevermind,” he says quickly. “My name’s Hinata Shouyou! What’s yours?” He grins at Kageyama like he’s genuinely pleased to meet him, and something in Kageyama’s chest tickles.

“Kageyama Tobio, and I’m not taking a nevermind—what were you going to say?”

“I didn’t know you wanted to be friends,” Hinata blurts. Kageyama’s chest turns from tickling to full-on squeezing, and he finds himself sitting down next to Hinata and letting himself just _be_ before even realizing it. 

Something about simply being with a stranger like this, someone who doesn’t know Kageyama’s reputation at Kitagawa Daiichi, is refreshing to the core. Or maybe it’s just Hinata’s presence specifically that makes him feel more real and _here_ than he has in years as they banter like they’ve been close since childhood.

/ * \

Even with the comfort Hinata’s presence brings, the nauseating sense of something amiss lingers still, just present enough to notice, curdling like sour milk, blemishing this— _something_ that Kageyama’s come to value so much.

When Kageyama’s team practically crushes their first opponent in the middle school tourney, there’s this nagging question deep within him, beyond his core: where was Hinata?

It’s not that Kageyama expected Hinata to be there—no, he hadn’t even told Hinata the tourney was happening. But just as persistent and innate as his heartbeat is the feeling—knowledge—that Hinata should have been there, somewhere, like Hinata should have been on…

The longer Kageyama thinks about it, the sicker he feels. He shoves it into the corner of his mind and refuses to let himself see it; it works, for a while. But as he introduces himself to the Karasuno third-years alone, the feeling returns with a vengeance that bristles all over his skin. There’s this _gap_ in the conversation that’s palpable.

Kageyama doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, but this feeling is almost excruciatingly poignant, and seizes the rationality he should’ve had—it’s not him wishing things were different, yearning for some ideal.

He knows Hinata likes volleyball, has played with him, just enough to know there’s a well of potential there; but hope for his future, or something that could be theirs, isn’t what this gnawing, starving vacancy everywhere is, asking _where, where, where_. 

Weeks pass, and the void grows to something constant throughout school and practice. When he meets Hinata in the park that weekend, he doesn’t hesitate to ask, “What were you trying to tell me when we first met?”

Hinata freezes in his fidgeting, and Kageyama can practically feel the chill that runs through him. “What are you talking about? I told you what I wanted to say, Bakageyama.” There’s a barely perceptible shake to his voice.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Hinata,” Kageyama pushes, trying to keep his tone level. “I had to make you correct yourself. There was something else you wanted to say.”

Hinata glances at him, then quickly looks away. He’s picking at a scab on his knuckle as he heaves a deep sigh, bites his lip hard enough that it should hurt. He takes one more glance at Kageyama, and the fear in his eyes is downright painful to notice. “I… was hoping this wouldn’t come up again. But, uhm, I guess I don’t really have a choice. This is going to sound really stupid, okay? But I promise it’s true.”

He smiles slightly, but it’s sardonic, unlike anything Kageyama’s ever seen from Hinata. The scab he’s been picking at is coming off, a little, and Kageyama can make out a hint of blood from the wound beneath it. “I was going to say I thought you couldn’t see me,” Hinata says slowly, each word measured. “Because, well. People can’t, usually. ‘Dunno why you can.”

“What,” Kageyama says blankly, because it’s _absurd_ , but somehow it makes sense. Why his mother didn’t notice him, the strange looks he got whenever there happened to be someone else in the park when he was with Hinata—

“It’s exactly that,” Hinata says, and his voice is quieter than Kageyama has ever heard it. Something about it makes Kageyama hesitant to even think of interrupting. “My mother and I—well, I’ll start from the beginning, I guess. My father left my family when I was a kid, y’know, before I could really remember him. Just up and left without a trace. My mother got rid of all the photos we had of him and everything else he left, so it’s like he _died_. And I hate it, ‘cause he had to have left for a reason, right? Nobody just does that without being forced to.” His voice is soft, but the way he scratches at the scab isn’t; it finally lets go and falls to the ground. Blood begins to well up. Kageyama just stares.

Hinata keeps picking at the wound, like he doesn’t even notice. “My mother hates him. But I want to believe he was— _is_ a good person. We fight sometimes over it, but the last one we had was, ah… She told me she hated having me around. ‘Cause apparently I look just like him, and act just like him, too, having this constant reminder of him just lingering around—made her want to puke.”

He swallows, audibly, and the breath he takes is shuddering like the tree branches in the wind. “It felt like she was gutting me. And I just didn’t want to be there, I—I didn’t want to exist at all. Not when my _mother_ was telling me I was the same as my ‘deadbeat’ father. ‘Cause she’s my mother, y’know? We fight a lot and all, but I still love her—how could I not? So I… disappeared, I guess.”

His expression is neutral, almost carefully hollow. “At first, it wasn’t all that bad. It was mostly just teachers not calling on me or forgetting to pick up my homework, y’know? But then it was… nobody would even acknowledge me anymore. I have a little sister, right? She would always beg me to give her piggyback rides or something like that. But then she just stopped, like she forgot me. Even when I tried bugging her to get her attention, she wouldn’t notice me, just get this confused look on her face. So I think it’s kinda as though I’m only peripherally there for her. Just a little tickle on the edge of her mind. Natsu’s asked my mother if she thinks there’s something missing, too, so maybe they remember me a little. But all I really am right now is this leaf on the edge of a large, large pond, and I’m just… floating around.”

His words are strained, like he’s near tears, and Kageyama’s heart seizes. It’s evident that Hinata’s reached his breaking point, with the way his jaw is clenched so tight.

So Kageyama abandons his anxiety just as he did the day he met Hinata, and begins to speak. “Well, maybe your mother doesn’t want to see you, but I do. Whatever weird crap let me see you—I’m glad for it. And it happened ‘cause you have a place here. You… deserve to exist.” He murmurs, biting his lip. _Probably more than I do._

Kageyama takes a breath, glances over at Hinata. He’s got his head resting in the crook of his knees, and Kageyama can’t see his expression. “You have more people that care about you than people who think you’re an annoying idiot. I mean, you kind of are one, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be around. You’re real to me, and I _want_ you to be, even if you’re a dumbass. You’re real to your family, too, even if your mother doesn’t like who you are. That’s why you’re still here, isn’t it? Because you deserve to be here no matter what others think of you.”

Over the gusts of wind, he can hear Hinata sniffling, face all red-hot. Kageyama is about to apologize, maybe take back that Hinata’s an idiot (he is, but that’s not what Hinata’s needs to hear right now, ugh, how _stupid_ of him—), when Hinata gasps out, “Thank you. For—for seeing me. I want to believe you, but…”

In a fit of bravery, Kageyama reaches over, tugs at one of the hands Hinata has wrapped tight around his knees until Hinata relaxes his grip, and holds it in his own. Hinata’s hands are freezing in comparison to Kageyama’s; Kageyama squeezes them tight. “You’re just as real as I am, idiot. You wouldn’t feel that if you weren’t. You’re here whether you want to be or not.”

Hinata nods, hard, as the day turns to dusk and the sky bleeds purple and blue.

/ * \

When Kageyama wakes up a few days later, it’s a Sunday with pinks and oranges clashing and complementing one another throughout the sky, healing the wounds of the night before. Something is _different_ , Kageyama notices immediately. Something is…

There’s this rightness settling in his bones, cementing like stone—a sense of peace. 

He’s eating breakfast with his mother when she tells him, “One of your friends stopped by just a little bit before you woke up.” _A friend_ , Kageyama thinks, and his mind jumps to—“He said his name was Hinata. He said he wanted to meet up at the park tonight. He was such a sweet boy, you know, very respectful—I’m glad you’re making friends, honey.”

Something deep in Kageyama’s chest flickers. “Hinata,” he says slowly, carefully, feeling the word roll up through his throat and out of his mouth. “The short redhead?”

“Yes, dear—isn’t that sort of hair amazing? I’ve never seen someone with hair as bright as his before. You just can’t miss him,” she laughs lightly. “Now, go on, eat your breakfast. I don’t want you being tired when you see Hinata later.”

So Kageyama eats, and although the dining room is silent but for the clinking of their silverware, his mind is a whirlwind ringing in his ears.

/ * \

Hinata is on the swingset when Kageyama makes it to the park that night; it’s dusk again, yet there’s not that well of unease in him, only traces of it lingering in Kageyama’s unsteady steps as he rushes up to the swings.

“You,” he starts, stops.

“Me,” Hinata says, and there’s this tiny little smile of genuine happiness on his face that makes Kageyama’s heart skip a beat.

“My mother—”

“Yeah, she saw me.” Hinata’s twiddling his thumbs in a restless, repetitive motion, like he’s all welled up with pure energy with no way to release it. “I, uhm. I’ve been trying to go around town and be—real, if that makes sense. Trying to act like I’m here instead of just avoiding everything. And it… kind of works.”

His smile wanes a little, and he chews on his lip for a moment before continuing. “Well, it works, but only sometimes. I had some kids start talking to me while their mother was buying them ice cream, but then their mother couldn’t figure out who they were talking to. It’s like… 25/75, maybe, 75% that they don’t see me. But it’s something, and I… it’s something. And that’s more than what it was before, y’know? So I’m really happy. Thank you—for what you said. I think that helped a lot.”

“Idiot,” Kageyama bites out. “I barely did anything. This is all you. I just told you what you should’ve known already, dumbass.”

“Sure, maybe! But clearly I wasn’t believing it! So you have a hand in it, too. Thank you, you jerk.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” Kageyama retorts, but there’s a smile creeping his way onto his face, color bursting inside him.

/ * \

A few weeks later, it happens. Hinata’s been working on his flickering; it’s more 80/20 in favor of being seen, now, and Hinata’s happier than Kageyama has ever seen him, if that’s even possible. He _wants_ to be here, wants to be real, maybe even believes that he deserves to be.

The thing is, though, that Hinata still hasn’t gone home. Kageyama’s been avoiding the subject, too, because he doesn’t really want Hinata going back there, not after hearing what his mother said to him, and Hinata clams up whenever the topic gets remotely close to him going home.

So they avoid it like it’s poison, and maybe that’s why it had to happen: Hinata runs into his mother, one afternoon, while Kageyama’s with him. It’s barely even a meeting; they pass on the street, and Hinata’s mother makes eye contact with Kageyama, smiles, but doesn’t even look at Hinata next to him.

Hinata holds onto Kageyama’s arm in a vice-grip as they make their way back to Kageyama’s house, and nobody acknowledges Hinata, not even in those hushed, pitiful glances that people give to someone who’s obviously about to cry. 

When they reach Kageyama’s house, Kageyama’s mother only greets him. That’s when Kageyama feels his stomach drop right out of him.

The double to his footsteps, his breathing, is deafening as they walk into Kageyama’s room; Hinata is stock still for a moment, two, three, before he releases Kageyama’s arm—and it _stings_ —and just backs himself against the wall, pulls his knees up to his chest, and _cries_ his heart out.

Kageyama stays with him through it; he doesn’t have anything else he can offer.

/ * \

Hinata’s sniffles die down a long time later, when the sky has gone dark and barren.

Kageyama lets himself speak, and he hates that it’s not profound, that it can’t fix everything barren inside Hinata, too. But there has to be something to fill the silence.

“You deserve to exist in front of your mother, too, even if she doesn’t want to see you. You want others to see you, and that’s all that matters. You’re your own existence. Don’t let that go to waste.”

Hinata doesn’t answer, and Kageyama’s words fail him entirely. The silence reigns.

/ * \

Hinata flickers with more polarity from then on out: there are days where everyone sees him, and days where only Kageyama does. (Kageyama worries, sometimes, that there’s going to be a day that Hinata wants to disappear so badly that Kageyama can’t see him anymore.)

But he’s getting better at working through the bad days—Kageyama hears him muttering to himself _you’re here, you’re here, you’re here_ , sometimes, and suddenly, he is. It’s a bravery and willpower Kageyama wishes he had.

Hinata does go home, after a string of good days that bolsters him. He goes alone. Hours pass, and he returns late in the evening with a fire burning in his eyes like the sun’s fervor at noon. “I made her see me,” he tells Kageyama, resolute with this underlying layer of satisfaction. “I didn’t—let her make me want to hide. I made myself stand up to her.”

It’s this mix of finality and giddiness, and Hinata doesn’t broach the subject any further, so Kageyama leaves it at that, lets Hinata bask in simply existing. 

The fact solidifies itself for the both of them when Hinata transfers to Karasuno: the way Hinata steals the spotlight of the court for himself and holds it so close to his chest, the way he sneaks right into the center of the team’s heart, the way he tells Kageyama _I’m here, you know_ , when he inevitably finds out about Kitagawa Daiichi. It settles deep, deep in Kageyama’s chest, immovable and firm, just as Hinata settles as well; and Kageyama somehow knows that everything is just the way it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by my sweetheart [clem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferTM/pseuds/luciferTM)! thank you babe ily
> 
> as always, thank you so so much for reading!! please feel free to comment with concrit or otherwise—it's much appreciated ;v; 
> 
> i'm on twitter [@hhatsunetsu](https://twitter.com/hhatsunetsu) if you'd like to hmu! i'm locked currently, but don't let that deter you—i'd love to chat!


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